


Potato

by josafiend



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Forbidden Love, Inanimate Objects, Other, potato, vegetable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 14:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7442539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josafiend/pseuds/josafiend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm so sorry.. I posted this a long time ago and thought it was time to release it into the wild.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Potato

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry.. I posted this a long time ago and thought it was time to release it into the wild.

It was early evening when Pastor Maldonado reached the front door of his Venezuelan home. He sighed as he stepped through into the cool semi darkness of the front hall, dropping his bag onto the tiled floor and kicking his shoes off with a thud.

The house was empty, which he had been prepared for, as Gabriela had phoned to say she was visiting her parents for the weekend, so he shuffled through to the kitchen hoping that she had restocked the fridge before she left.

Indecisively he pulled items randomly from shelves; cheese, salad, some fresh pasta. All he knew was that the flight and subsequent trek over from the airport had made him ravenous. He reached around to the bread bin and pulled out half a baguette, taking a bite out of it to sate his hunger.

From the corner of his eye he saw something in the corner, something he hadn’t been expecting; a bag of potatoes.  
Pastor shook his head, he was going to make himself some dinner and get an early night. He pulled a pack of chicken from the back of the fridge and set about making a club sandwich, pushing the potatoes to the back of his mind.

But after he’d eaten, laying on his couch watching a replay of Sunday’s Bahrain Grand Prix, the thought came back to him. The potatoes.

He thought about the last time, and the shame of it. Of the tears Gabriela had shed and his promises, heartfelt promises that it would be the last time. But he was an impetuous man, and his conscience was fighting a losing battle.

He wandered back into the kitchen; now almost pitch black, the light from the lounge falling on the bag in the corner like a spotlight. Pastor folded his arms, leaning back against the large scrubbed dining table, contemplating their presence, and his next move.

He approached the bag, pulling one potato out carefully, turning it over in his hands. Its skin was smooth, just a hint of the soil it had been plucked from. Pastor felt his heart rate quicken, and checked over his shoulder nervously before pressing the potato tenderly against his cheek.

He pushed his free hand into the bag between its companions, winding his fingers between them. Testing a couple for size, weight, feeling for any imperfections in the skin, he pulled a larger potato out, nodding appreciatively as he reached for the drawer, seeking the coring utensil.

Grabbing the bag he ran through the house, skidding on the tiles at the foot of the stairs and dashing up to the first floor and into the master bedroom. His mind raced, he didn’t want to do this here, in his marriage bed, but he couldn’t resist and tipped the potatoes out onto the sheets, pulling his shirt over his head and climbing up amongst them. He pushed the corer into the largest potato, feeling the tingle of pleasure rush through him as the blade pierced the skin, the raw flesh of the potato fighting its fate.

Soon there was a hole big enough for his finger, and he stopped for a moment to feel the cool dampness within. So familiar to him, from long ago, his breath quickened and he made for the corer again, widening the hole quickly, desperately.

He pressed the potato against his lips, licking the entrance to the potato, taste of it made his head spin, so organic, so natural. His cock was solid and his body shook from the anticipation, it had been years since he’d given in to them. He pushed away his shorts, now naked amongst the potatoes, teasing himself with the vacant space in the vegetable, before sliding it over himself.

Pastor gasped, holding the potato with both hands as he slid it up and down. The cool depths of it gave him goosebumps, the hole ever so slightly too small for his cock, as was his preference, for the extra friction.

He rolled toward the mattress, the potato beneath him, pushing his hips down, fucking the potato into the sheets. He grasped at the others, fumbling them into a loose pile and pressing his face into their smooth skin, he could feel the end coming, it was always quick this way. He let the pressure build, until the fire in his belly made him cry out, and he pulled out of the potato, spine arching as he released over the pile of it’s companions, falling happy, breathless and empty beside it.

It was when he opened his eyes that he saw her, standing motionless and horrified in the doorway. How long she had been there he didn’t know, but he knew he had failed her so dramatically he had no idea how he could make it back into her favour.

‘Gabriela!’ He yelled, as she turned on her heel and raced back through the house, a naked Pastor in hot pursuit. ‘Gabriela, wait!’

She came to a sudden halt at the foot of the stairs, hair wild and face full of hate and fury. ‘You lied to me, you bastard, you promised! No more potatoes!’  
‘I’m sorry, I swear I’m sorry!’ Pastor cried. ‘They were here, in the house! Who brought them here?’

Gabriela had no answer, for she had already stormed through the door, and Pastor could hear the roar of her Mercedes as she sped away.

He climbed the stairs, sinking onto the bed in defeated misery. Tossing one of the potatoes onto the floor in disgust, disgust with himself, instantly feeling guilty, it wasn’t the potato’s fault. He reached to retrieve it, brushing it off tenderly, a silent apology for his anger, hadn’t the potatoes always been there for him? He smiled sadly, his world in tatters because of his weakness, and cried into the potato at his stupidity.


End file.
